


Redemption

by mirukka



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-11-26 10:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirukka/pseuds/mirukka
Summary: In which Oliver Queen wrestles with the consequences of being a hero and discovers a feeling called hope.  Oliver & Felicity, as well as other relationships.  Spoilers for Season 2.  Complete.





	1. Endearing

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a really long time since I've tried my hand at writing, and it probably shows. Regardless, I'm excited to be diving into a series of drabbles for this interesting pairing. Felicity is adorable, and I'm enjoying the ride as their relationship develops from sidekick to partner and beyond. I'm writing mainly as an ode to Felicity, with nods to Oliver's wrestle with heroship. Hope you enjoy.

Drabble: Endearing

Felicity is endearing.

The thought strikes him as he presses his palm against her cheek, and she leans into him. A hand that has murdered more than one in cold blood, and still the woman basks in his touch as if he is capable of doling out…something. Kindness, maybe. Affection, perhaps.

For all her babbling and inopportune remarks, Felicity is something of a fixture in his life. She is fingers flying over keyboard quick, one step ahead of his tracking needs. He relies on her, and that should scare him, but he finds he likes it, knowing that someone outside of himself is faster, stronger than he is. Not just at computers and hacking. Someone who will put him in his place when he steps outside of it. Someone strong enough to let him know when he is murdering in cold blood, or earning his way towards being the hero she sees him as.

That is scary. That Felicity, his partner, sees him as more than just the Hood, a vigilante. She sees him as a way for Starling City to wrestle with its crime.

She sees him as a hero.

That is why she feeds him intel so quickly, is so eager to track down his enemies. She believes in him.

That scares him more than any relationship he has been in. Felicity knows his dark side, his other, and she believes in him. He is not sure he could say the same of Laurel, who would immediately link him to the death of Tommy if she knew his identity. With Laurel’s spiral towards drinking, he cannot count on her support for anything besides anger.

There is a certain naivete to Felicity that he would gladly crush, except he likes it. He likes that no matter how many secrets he may hide from his family, his friends, the world, he has at least one person who knows him and sees the good in him.

In that moment, something heavy settles on his chest. He does not like when others have leverage over him, and he finds that the IT technician, with her rose-tinted glasses, does.

He does not want to disappoint her.

He wants her to be his girl. His partner.

He does not want to lose her good regard.

Oliver swallows. So much for keeping others at arms length.


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity Smoak introduces herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m used to writing for obscure fandoms (of Resonance of Fate and Matantei Loki fame), so I’m blown away by the response I’ve gotten for my first drabble. Thank you so much for the kudos and hits. It means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this next one. Please note that I’ve only watched up to the end of Season 2 at this point, so any musings about Felicity’s past is strictly speculation.

Drabble: Introductions

“Who is she?” Moira Queen asks.

Felicity grins.

When she is seven, Felicity’s father abandons her family and she discovers the computer he left behind. Felicity disassembles the machine the way a surgeon dissects a patient, detaching circuit boards like organs, parting wires like capillaries and veins. She falls in love for the first time.

When Felicity is ten, her friend’s mother drives her to her middle school’s Science Olympiad. Even though she takes regular physics courses rather than honors, preferring computers over microscopes, the child ends up winning second place in the regional competition. She follows the scientific method with painstaking attention, loading the silver marble and launching it from the chute to the precise click of a stopwatch.

At fourteen she meets a boy in her class who disses her dad for leaving his family. Quietly — Felicity does everything quietly at this age — she finds the IP address of the rich boy’s Hewlett Packard. That night, while the boy is playing Battle Net with his friends on Diablo, the Price’s house reverberates with Jason Price’s screams. The family never finds out why the son’s computer decided to overheat then spontaneously combust.

At twenty, Felicity is the only female in a class of male graduates at MIT. She writes algorithms and partitions data structures as if she were breathing air. She wears sensible heels with bright pink lipstick and graduates the top of her class.

Now, at the age of twenty-four, Felicity works for the CEO of one of the richest corporations in the world. By day the IT expert poses as an executive assistant. By night the woman feeds the coordinates of Starling City’s most dangerous criminals to the city’s most wanted vigilante.

“I’m nobody,” Felicity Smoak says with a laugh.


	3. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver crosses off another man on the list, and Felicity checks up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer one. Hope you enjoy!

Drabble: Tension

Oliver swings at the punching bag. His fist collides and the bag shakes, the chain connecting it to the ceiling rattling.

He is gearing up for the next name on the list, a multimillionaire mogul named Rashik Abdul who made millions off the backs of Indian workers in sweat shops. Felicity has tracked their base to a small warehouse in Fourth and Steel in the industrial part of Starling City. The only thing is to wait for nightfall, when there will be fewer civilians in the building and he can take out the head with minimal casualties.

The sound of heels clacking against steel reverberates throughout the basement. Felicity walks down the steps at the entrance, her purse over her shoulders. When she sees him, she gives a start.

“You’re still here,” she says. “I thought you’d be out by now. Dig’s already in position.”

“I wanted to work out some tension before the fight,” he says, hitting the bag with a series of quick jabs. “Needed to clear my head.”

Felicity sets her purse down by her three monitors. “Anything I can help with? And please don’t say you need a sparring partner. My line of expertise—while expansive—doesn’t really fall in that purview. I mean, I could try, but you really don’t want to see me throw a punch. The last time that happened I nearly broke a wrist, and let me tell you it wasn’t my opponent’s.”

The punching bag shakes from a series of dull thuds. “Felicity.”

“Right. Rambling.” She eyes him in all his shirtless, distracting glory and shakes her head. “What can I do for you, Mr. Queen?”

“I thought I told you to call me Oliver. Mr. Queen was my father.”

“Yes, but the honorific helps when you’re blurring professional boundaries like that—“ she gestures to his dress-less state. “In fact, I don’t think I should even be seeing you like this. It’s hard to think of you as my boss when you’re, um, sweating, and—“ more punches to the bag “—not really listening to me, are you?”

“I’m always listening to you, Felicity.” Oliver grabs the towel on the table and throws it around his shoulders.

“And that’s how you get them, isn’t it?” She can’t seem to stop her mouth. “Girls like Helena and Laurel?”

He mops his face with the towel and throws her a glare. “What?”

Words are landmines around Felicity, and she navigates them with all the grace of a drunk in a minefield. “You’re good with women, aren’t you? You lure them in with your dark and brooding charm, then give them kind words and bam, lover in your arms.”

“My personal life is none of your affair.”

“No, it’s really not, but you said that you needed to release some tension, and I thought you might have been meaning of a sexual nature, and I really need to shut up now.” Felicity looks miserable.

“Are you volunteering?” The corners of his mouth quirk upward, which Felicity does not see, too busy hiding her face in her hands.

“What?” Her head jerks up. “No! Not that you aren’t—no offense to you—but vigilantes really aren’t my type. I’m just here to find Walter.”

“So you’ve said.”

Felicity decides to sit down at her desk and adamantly avoid looking in his direction, hoping this will stop the stream of words. She logs into the terminal and begins running scans of the warehouse Oliver and John will infiltrate tonight. Camera feeds show workers leaving the building for the night.

“Oliver, it’s time.”

When she chances a look back, she finds an empty basement, the green leather gone from its casing. Felicity turns back to her monitors.

“Great job, Felicity,” she tells herself. “You have a beautiful way with words.”

\---

The job goes off without a hitch, so smooth that Oliver almost goes on autopilot for most of the fight. The guards fall to his arrows, and Rashik Abdul surrenders so quickly during his interrogation that Oliver feels something akin to disappointment. He recognizes the feeling when he returns to Verdant’s basement, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Oliver, John, and Felicity have been eliminating men from the list one by one, going through roughly two pages of names in as many weeks. The pace would be exhilarating, knowing that Starling City’s criminals are returning their riches to their rightful owners, except something is missing.

He feels an itch, and that’s when his conversation with Felicity earlier returns to him.

“‘You’re good with women, aren’t you?’”

What the IT expert fails to understand is that Oliver leaves pieces of himself with the women he sleeps with.

And right now, he needs to understand this disappointment running through his system.

Oliver removes his hood and vest, facing the punching bag in his basement for the second time this night. The clock reads 12:59 A.M. The air hums with the sound of computer fans whirring and the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. Diggle has gone home to Carlie for the night. Felicity is home wherever her apartment is.

Oliver stands in the middle of the basement that is as close to his home as he has.

“‘You’re good with women, aren’t you?’”

He is and he isn’t. Oliver lashes out at the punching bag, throwing it back.

When he was with Laurel, he never felt this way. He never felt this all-consuming dread, this guilt that he wasn’t living up to what he could be. He was just him, this boy who could throw around his money and get in the pants of whomever he wanted. There was no thinking. No consequences. Life was a game and he had unlimited lives, no rules.

Then the island happened. His father died. The notebook came under his possession.

And suddenly, nothing was enough anymore. No matter how many times he fucked women to oblivion, there was an itch.

The island tore his psyche to pieces. And he’s realizing that there’s a pattern to the women he sleeps with, now.

Laurel is his life before the island. Laurel is apartment hunting and candle-lit dinners with wine and playful banter. She is engagement rings and forevers. She is his light.

Helena Bertinelli holds his revenge. She shines a light to the darkness he holds inside him, his need to use his enemies as punching bags to alleviate this pulsating, wild need for vengeance. She is his killer instinct.

Right my wrongs, his father had told him, moments before he shot himself.

Oliver throws a punch and falters, the punching bag gently knocking against him.

He needs his enemies to fight back. That was what was so disturbing about this last encounter. Rashik Abdul gave up too easily. Oliver could see the surrender in his eyes the moment he aimed his arrow to his chest. He knew his fate and he accepted it.

That wasn’t good enough.

Oliver gives a cry and slams a fist into the punching bag.

He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for this mission of vengeance. He only wanted to come back to his home, to his mother and sister. To Thea and Laurel. He didn’t ask for this quest to eliminate men who knew the extent of their wrongs and did them anyway. He didn’t want to delve into the belly of darkness that was Starling City’s criminals. He wanted only to see his family again.

The door to the basement creaks open. Oliver focuses so intently on the punching bag in front of him that he fails to notice. It isn’t until he senses the shift in air behind him, that he whirls around and grabs the intruder in a chokehold around the neck.

The blonde dangles helplessly in the air, her blue eyes wide with fear. Her hands grasp his, tiny gasping noises coming from her throat.

“Felicity.” He releases the woman in horror. She crumples to the ground and her hands go to her neck, coughing wetly.

“Are you okay?” He kneels beside her, his hand on her shoulder. She gives a brief nod. “What were you doing? I could have killed you.”

“Thank goodness you didn’t,” she says. The sardonic smile on her lips makes him stiffen momentarily than relax. If she can make light of the situation, perhaps he didn’t cause as much damage as he feared.

“Remind me again never to sneak up on the Vigilante. Or Oliver Queen. I don’t know which one you are right now,” she says, eyeing his shirtless state.

“Just Oliver. Come on,” he helps her to her feet then to her chair at her computer station. She complies, her hand grasping his arm.

“What are you doing here, Felicity?”

“Just wanted to check up on you. You didn’t look so good when Rashik turned himself in today.”

“It’s past one o’ clock at night.”

“Well, yes, but you were on my mind. Not,” she flushes, “that I was thinking about you in the middle of the night, because I wasn’t, I was just worried about you. Concerned. Of the platonic nature.”

Oliver cannot help but smile at the woman’s babbling. He gives her shoulder a squeeze. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” She lays a hand on his. “Contrary to belief, I’m a pretty good listener. If you need to talk…”

“It’s fine, Felicity.” He smiles, warmed by her concern.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Are you really sure? Because like I said I—“

“What are you going to offer, Felicity?”

She shuts her mouth. “Right. We talked about this, didn’t we. You’ve got… tension, and you were relieving it. God, why does everything I say sound so dirty around you?”

“Freudian slip?” Oliver gives her a shit-eating grin.

“That’s it,” she stands up abruptly. “We’re done. Clearly, you are fine. Never again am I going to venture into your bat cave while you are brooding and punching bags.”

“I was just joking,” he says, half-laughing at her. She glares at him.

“Yes, well, I’m not the only one who should keep her thoughts to herself.” She huffs and goes to retrieve her purse from where it fell while Oliver held her in his loving embrace. “Last time I check up on you," she mutters.

Before she can march up the stairs, he calls out, “Seriously, Felicity. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“And that,” she throws over her shoulder, adjusting her purse on her shoulder, “is how they fall at your feet. Your 180 from douchebag to decent man.”

“What can I say?” Oliver says. He looks away when she shakes her head, her hair falling loosely around her neck. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Felicity snorts. He ignores the feeling that threatens to rise whenever the IT technician and him banter with each other. It reminds him too much of Laurel, of her playful nature before the island.

“Well, Mister Man of Many Talents, I’ll leave you to punch the living daylights out of that bag. God knows what it’s done to you, but I suppose we all have our secrets, don’t we?” She ascends the stairs to the entrance, stopping at the last step. “You’re okay, Oliver?”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for stopping by.”

Felicity nods, then opens the door and lets herself out.

Oliver faces the punching bag. Tension indeed.

Oliver won’t sleep with her. He won’t give her a piece of himself. He’s had enough of that.


	4. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver confronts Helena Bertinelli. He learns something about himself in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble was really hard to write. Still, I hope you enjoy anyway. Trying to find new ways to flesh out Oliver’s character.

Drabble: Hero

Helena Bertinelli aims her crossbow and lets a bolt loose, the tip piercing flesh and coming clean the other side. The cop screams, dropping to the cement, and the woman smiles. As sirens wail in the distance, she steps into the shadows of the alleyway and waits.

Since finding out her father killed her fiancee, Helena has felt little more than passing remorse at the lives she takes. Nothing seems to erase the dull ache that spread the moment she received the news that her fiancee was gone. A lifetime of happiness, the promise of a partner by her side for eternity — wiped, in a second. Helena grips the steel crossbow in her hands, the sirens coming closer.

Nothing can describe the feeling of losing the one she loved. Nights pass where all the woman can feel is rage, the desire to find her lover’s murderer brought to terms. Imagine her surprise when she finds her beloved’s killer is none other than her father. The man who raised her with his own two hands, the man who taught her to blend in with society’s elite. He had taught her everything she knew, and he ripped any chance of happiness she had in this life.

The pain aches, as it always does, when she recalls Michael. A bright, sunny man with a devil-may-care attitude, as loud as she was quiet. He was the day to her night, a politician she met at one of her father’s parties. Michael had the rare presence of earnestness that made him so powerful as a politician.

So powerful that he had gotten himself killed.

The police arrive in a blur of flashing blue and red lights. Helena loads her crossbow. As the police discovers the cop’s body on the ground, Helena steps out from the shadows.

“Bring me Frank Bertinelli, or face your death. Your choice.”

—

“Helena, don’t kill them!” Oliver drops from the rooftop to the alleyway. “You’re not a killer!” The masked woman aims at a policeman bent over his colleague’s body. As her crossbow shoots, Oliver intercepts her arrow with one of his own, the steel bolt clanging to the ground.

“Do not interfere!” shouts the woman, reloading her crossbow. She ducks as the five policemen begin to open fire, raining gunshots on the dumpster she hides behind.

Oliver aims and shoots the gun from a policeman’s hand. “Don’t do this!”

The first cop goes down, his heart pierced by Helena’s crossbow. “Give me Frank Bertinelli!”

“The police aren’t going to just hand him over, Helena! Listen to yourself!”

“Detective Lance, we need backup!” one cop shouts into his phone, moments before he drops to the ground, screaming in pain. A bolt lodges through his brain between his eyes.

“Stop this, Helena!” Oliver aims at Helena’s wrist and shoots. Too focused on the cops surrounding her, the arrow hits true and Helena’s weapon falls to the ground. Grasping her bleeding wrist, Helena glares at him. She picks up her weapon with her good hand and makes a run for the wall. She scales the wall and lands on the rooftop of a building. Oliver watches as she jumps from the rooftop and disappears.

“Oliver, I’ve lost her coordinates,” says Felicity through his earpiece.

“I lost her, too,” Oliver says into his microphone. “I’m heading back.”

“Got it. Be safe.”

As he propels himself up the neighboring wall to the rooftop, he takes a look around. No sign of Helena. Oliver sighs and begins the long trek home.

Helena Bertinelli has been spotted shooting policemen lately. Now that her father has been taken custody, she thinks she can lure out her father by threatening the police force. The police aren’t going to give him up, and eventually she is going to get herself killed. There is not much Oliver can do to prevent her suicide mission, but he finds that he does not want the woman to die.

Oliver descends the steps to Verdant’s basement. At the bottom, he faces John Diggle, who has his arms crossed.

“Don’t, Diggle.”

“You wanna tell me why you’re out there helping out the Huntress? Both of you?” He levels a stare at Felicity, who looks away.

“It’s not Felicity’s fault, Dig.” He hangs up his bow back in its glass case. “I was the one who asked her to track down Helena.”

“Helena,” John says. “Right, I forget the two of you are on first name basis.” As Oliver removes his hood, ignoring him, John continues, “What do you hope to gain, Oliver? That woman’s a psychopath. She wants to kill her own father.”

“Because her father killed her fiancee.”

“Regardless of the reason, killing her father won’t make it right.”

“You take the words right out of my mouth. Maybe you should try convincing her.”

“Seriously, Oliver.” John stands in front of him. “Whose side are you on?”

He doesn’t know. For once, Oliver is conflicted. The men on the List — it’s clear that they have committed crimes, and that their place is behind bars. Their family do not pay the price for their sins.

The irony is not lost on him. Oliver’s crusade is a direct result of his father’s sins. The only difference is that Robert Queen’s crimes did not affect his son and daughter’s lives. Frank Bertinelli’s did.

It’s more than that, he knows. It is that Oliver sees himself in her. Helena has the choice to bring her father to justice. Oliver lost that chance when Robert shot himself in the life raft. His life changed irreversibly when the notebook came into his life. He didn’t ask to be a hero.

“I’m not on either side, Diggle,” he says. “Helena needs to be stopped.”

“But shooting the police? I saw you shoot the gun out of that cop’s hand.”

“I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“Oliver,” John gets up close. “Your emotions are clouding your judgement. Figure out whose side you’re on before both sides turn on you.” The bodyguard’s footsteps ring loud in the basement as he crosses the room, the door banging shut behind him.

The fluorescent lights hum in the silence that follows. Oliver closes his eyes and slowly breathes out so he does not punch the wall.

“You okay?” Felicity ventures.

“Her father killed her fiancee,” says Oliver.

“So I heard,” she says. At his flat stare, Felicity grins. “Maybe we should install a room in the basement for private conversations. Pretty open as it is.”

“It’s fine. I’m just…”

“Not thinking straight?” At his glower, Felicity continues. “Oliver, that woman is trying to kill her father. She’s killing policemen.”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” he says, moving to stand in front of the glass case with his outfit.

“You’re going out there again?”

“I just need to clear my head. Has anything come up?”

“A robbery at Fifth and Central.”

Oliver nods. He grabs his hood and his bow and heads out.

—

Oliver feels paralyzed when it comes to Helena. He wants to save her but he does not know how. The woman is consumed with bloodlust for her father, to the point where nothing Oliver says will reach her.

As he intercepts the robbery, shooting a tranquilizing arrow at the man who carries the cargo, Oliver feels his frustration mount. It is easier not to get involved. To not care whether the woman gets killed or not. But he does not want her to die.

She is like him. She is on her own crusade for justice.

If it were Thea who was killed, he is not sure he would not be like Helena, fixated on the idea of bringing her fiancee’s murderer to justice.

But. At some point people have to move on.

“Oliver, you there?” Felicity’s voice breaks through his thoughts. He starts and remembers where he is. He shoots a hook to the top of the building and exits through the rooftop.

“I’m here.”

“Good. Helena of psychopath fame has been spotted two blocks north of D street and Central. Camera surveillance shows her targeting policemen again.”

“Let her go.”

“What? Oliver, she needs to be stopped.”

“Let her go. The police will stop her.”

“No, Oliver, the police don’t stand a chance against her. They’re going down one by one. They need the Arrow.”

Oliver closes his eyes. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Roger that.”

He arrives at the scene to find the Huntress has already taken out three out of four policemen. The flashing blue and red lights from the two nearby police cars illuminate the bodies littering the street, blood seeping from their uniforms. Three bolts pierce one man in the back, lying facedown.

“Stop! These men have families!” Oliver drops down to the street, putting himself between Helena and the last policeman.

“What of family? Mine killed the only one I loved!” Helena shoots a bolt at him, and he knocks it down in midair with one of his arrows.

“Your father is all the family you will ever have. Michael wouldn’t have wanted to see you this way!”

“Don’t you dare mention Michael’s name!” Helena screams. Tears run down her cheeks as she attacks him, coming into close quarters, and he evades.

“I know,” Oliver says, ducking a punch from the masked woman, “that this vengeance is the only thing keeping you going. I get that. But getting your revenge is not going to fill the void in your heart. It’s not going to bring back Michael.”

“I said,” the woman kicks him and Oliver grabs her leg in midair, “don’t mention his name! You have no idea what it’s like, to wake up each day knowing that the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with was ripped away from you.”

Helena throws a series of punches that Oliver counters blow for blow. “You’re right. I have no idea what that’s like. What I do know is that vengeance never solves anything.”

“Then what about the men you hunt? How is your vendetta any different than mine?” Helena laughs. “Because you stop criminals, you think yourself noble? You think you’re a hero?”

“I’m no hero!” Oliver slams the woman into the police car and she gasps as he grasps her neck in a chokehold. “Get out of here, Helena. This is your last chance. Call Detective Lance,” he says to the remaining policeman. He nods. Oliver lowers himself so he can whisper in her ear. “Go ahead and try getting to your father. I’ll be there to stop you every time.”

Helena throws her full weight against him, and he releases his hold on her. Glaring at him, she pushes him away from her and moves toward the wall to make her escape. By the time reinforcements arrive, the Huntress has long fled the scene.

When he returns to Verdant’s basement, Diggle has gone home and only Felicity is at her station. As he hangs up his bow and quiver, he hears the woman approach him.

“If you ask me if I’m all right, the answer is yes.”

“You don’t think you’re a hero,” says Felicity, ignoring his comment.

“That was what you got out of that conversation?” Oliver takes off his hood and faces her.

“You’re different from that psychopath. You save people, Oliver.”

“While injuring them in the process,” he says, remembering the three dead policemen lying on the ground that night.

Felicity shakes her head. “You are not responsible for the deaths that Helena Bertinelli caused — or any criminal, for that matter.”

“Let’s not play make Oliver feel better,” he says, moving to the other side of the basement.

“You don’t believe me,” says Felicity. “Even though you saved a policeman out there tonight, you’re blaming yourself for those three men you couldn’t save. Am I right?”

Oliver cannot face her. Five men in total tonight will not be returning home to their families. They will have wives, daughters, or sons mourning their absence.

The sound of heels click on the basement’s steel floor. Felicity stands in front of him. “And that,” she smiles, “is what makes you different from Helena or any criminals we face.”

“That I’m weak,” he says, placing a hand over his face. Felicity takes his hand and wipes his tear away.

“That you’re human. That you’ve got this,” the woman places her hand over his chest. “And this,” she taps his forehead then wraps her hand around his head. Like she did many nights ago, he leans into her touch, basking in the warmth of his partner’s regard.

“You think too highly of me,” Oliver says, covering her hand with his own.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she says.


	5. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver explores what Sara means to him, and Felicity steps in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has turned into a collection of the women in Oliver’s life and what they mean to him. At first it bothered me, how many women Oliver sleeps with throughout the series, but Oliver wouldn’t be himself without his playboy persona. Everyone we love builds us up. This is me looking at the women in Oliver’s life from another lens.

Drabble 5: Darkness

Sara is Oliver’s fall back. She has her sister’s steel, mixed with Oliver’s darkness. She knows how to kill people. She has killed people, unlike her sister Laurel. The first one, on the island of Lian Yu, was like a part of her soul died. Her innocence faded, never to return. Joining the League of Assassins taught her skills her old life could never fathom. She learned to survive. She learned to kill.

She is Oliver’s counterpart, and he loves her for that. He loves that she, out of everyone among his family and friends, knows what he went through on the island. They built a fire together, hunted pheasants for food. He does not have to explain to her. She was there. She knows what it was like, having to fend for oneself for the barest necessities.

She knew Slade. She knew Iyo and the effects of the Mirakuru. They escaped the freighter together. She knew what it was like to live locked behind bars. He put his life in her hands, and she did the same. They were comrades. They watched each other’s backs.

He chooses Sara over Shado. The decision haunts him, but how could he face Laurel and her family if Sara died at his hands? He could never live his decision down.

Sara is his partner in his crusade to take down Starling City’s criminals. She is his equal in strength and skill.

Words will never do justice for what he feels for Sara. Sara mirrors his darkness. Being with her is like seeing the cracks in his self lit whole. She is as broken as he is, and he loves her for that.

\---

At first glance, Felicity does not seem all that similar to Sara, besides the blonde hair, which he knows that she dyes. They both have an inner steel, though, that shines through when the going gets tough. Neither of them back down from a challenge. In another world, they might have been sisters.

—

“Where’s Sara?”

“Spending time with her family.”

“Why aren’t you spending time with yours?”

Because spending time with his family reminds him of the secrets he keeps now. It reminds him that his family expects him to be one way, the way he was before the island, and the island changed everything. He learned to torture, kill, and survive. He is no longer the brother and son he was before the island. The one they keep expecting him to be.

“Thea’s out with Roy, and Mom’s busy running her campaign.”

“I guess it’s just you and me, then, huh.” Felicity twirls around on her chair then stops. “Not that I don’t like spending time with you. It’s just. I don’t think we spend much time talking outside of going after men on the List. It’s nice.”

It is. Oliver doesn’t tell her that.

\---

When Sara dies, it feels like a piece of him dies with her. With Slade put away in prison in Lian Yu, she is the last person who was there on the island with him. Now she, too, is gone.

Felicity finds him mourning Sara’s death in his corner.

She walks up to him, drops to her knees, and hugs him. “You have a big heart, Oliver. You’re capable of loving so many people. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He shakes his head, tears spilling down his cheeks and onto her sweater. He leans into her, into the warmth of her embrace, into the glow of her faith.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Sure you do,” Felicity says, her arms steady around him, her head carefully turned away. “Everyone deserves somebody. Mom hammered that home into me when I was young. ‘Felicity,’ she said, ‘everyone’s got someone.’ She said that to me after Dad left. ‘Your dad’s gone to be with someone else, and the person I’m going to be with is out there waiting for me.’”

“Your mom sounds wonderful.” He buries his head into her shoulder. “I’d like to meet her someday.”

“Let’s hope that never happens,” she says. “Mom can be quite the character.”

“I’m sure she can’t be that bad. She raised you.”

“Yes, well,” and she leaves it as that, for once at a loss for words. Oliver smirks and she smacks him gently on his back.

Felicity smells of vanilla and pine, of simplicity and clean, refreshing clarity. She is separate from the torture and horrors of the island, and he finds he wants to keep her that way, free from the darkness born out of survival.

It surprises him, this wave of protectiveness. Sara and Laurel could both take care of themselves, Sara with her fighting prowess and Laurel with her strong front, but Felicity — he finds he wants to keep her safe. To keep her from going through the horrors he had to face on the island. He does not want to see the light in her eyes diminished, the same way Sara’s eyes — and his — are haunted by memories of fighting and loss and betrayal.

Felicity is more than a friend. She is his partner, and a believer in him.

He wants to be the hero she sees in him.

Felicity offers him her hand, and he accepts as she pulls him up.


	6. Purity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thea suspects the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s getting close to the end! I’ve never done a drabble collection with a bit of plot (re: slow burn and introspection) woven through, and it’s quite fun. It’s surprisingly enjoyable to develop character through use of side characters. I hope you enjoy!

Drabble 6: Purity

Thea Queen is Oliver’s favorite person. She has a no-nonsense personality and a purity of heart that makes her see through most people’s bullshit. She isn’t afraid to talk back to Oliver. She doesn’t keep secrets from him, and she loves him as if he were the world.

When she finds out he is the Arrow, he fears that she would hate him. That she would find him a murderer. Nothing can explain the relief that floods him when she hugs him to her and thanks him for saving lives. For being a hero.

More than anyone, it hurts to keep secrets from Thea, because she does not keep secrets with him. She is his little sister, his Speedy, and he would move mountains to keep her safe. Resurrecting her with the Lazardus’ pit is only the tip of the iceberg of what he would do for her.

—

It’s not that Felicity cannot keep secrets. It is that she tends to say the first thing that comes to mind, and that often is the truth.

They’re similar, in this aspect, Speedy and Felicity Smoak. Both couldn’t lie to save their lives.

—

It takes a toll, lying to his sister, his best friend, and Laurel about his alter ego. It is a relief to reveal himself to the blonde woman with the glasses and too brilliant mind. Something tiny and fragile begins to spark and come to life since being on the island.

Trust.

It starts with Diggle and stokes to a flame with Felicity Smoak. The more he tells about his secret, about being the Arrow, the more he feels like himself. Less like the survivor of the island, and more like Oliver Queen the watcher of Starling City.

Although she knows little about his time on the island — no one does — Felicity takes to his mission like a swan to water. She eases into her role of tracker, hacker, and Oliver’s conscience like none other. She calls him out when he is about to kill. She reminds him of his humanity. That sparing lives, softness, is not weakness.

—

Thea begins to suspect.

“Someone on your mind?”

“No one,” Oliver says.

“Right,” says Thea. “And I’ve lost both my eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You smile more,” she says. “Like you’re proud of something, or thinking about something that made you happy. Who is she?”

“What makes you think there’s someone?”

“It’s not Laurel. Your relationship is so complicated that you never smile like that when you talk about her. And it’s not Sara because you’re guilt-ridden about her. So someone new. Someone you never expected to be in your life.”

Thea is perceptive, eerily so, and hearing her begin to probe at the truth sends a wave of panic through him, before he relaxes. He has gotten good at keeping secrets.

“There’s no one, Thea.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Thea glares at him. “Fine. If you want to be stubborn like that, be my guest.”

“I’m not being stubborn. I have nothing to hide.”

“Since you got back from the island, I don’t believe you when you say that.” Her admission makes him wince, but he hides it before she can see.

Felicity Smoak is no one. Even if he were to explain, no one would understand. She is not beautiful, fiery like Laurel or confident like Sara. She does not have the ambition of Isabel or the darkness of Helena. She is a woman who trips over words the way he used to stumble over traps on the island. She has Thea’s purity of heart with a mind that is beyond brilliant.

How can he not smile from time to time when thinking of her?

Anyone would. It doesn’t mean anything.


	7. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Felicity asks questions about Oliver's involvement with Laurel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this drabble took several tries! It originally started following the format as the previous two drabbles, then inspiration hit and I revamped the entire thing. I'm excited how it turned out. I hope you enjoy!

Drabble 7: Beautiful

“What kept you going when you were on the island?” asks Felicity one day, glancing at him over her shoulder in her executive chair.

“Laurel,” he says. At her questioning stare, he takes out his wallet and the worn photo of his ex-girlfriend. “I wanted to get back and apologize to her.”

“For sleeping with her sister.”

Oliver stares at Felicity and she meets his gaze unblinking. He is the first to look away and he nods. “For sleeping with her sister.”

“But it’s more than that, though, isn’t it? Usually people want to avoid the ones they feel guilty towards. In your case, your girlfriend.”

“You’re right,” he says. “I missed her, too. I wanted to see her. And Thea, and Mom.”

Felicity nods. “That makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Wanting to see your girlfriend is a pretty normal reaction. Not that there’s anything normal about your triangle situation with Laurel, her sister, and you. Square, if you count your best friend. My head hurts thinking about it.”

“Well, don’t think about it. It isn’t something you can do anything about.”

“For once, we agree on something. Consider it done.”

There is something refreshing about Felicity, the way she looks at situations and dissects them. She doesn’t have a filter, so political correctness does not register in her way of speaking. She bluntly lays out a situation and calls out the facts. It makes Oliver feel oddly comfortable around her. Whereas her lack of social finesse would make most people uncomfortable, he finds he likes maneuvering when she lays out all the cards. It’s like a minefield after all the landmines have been detonated. At least he does not have to sugarcoat his words.

“Why Laurel?” Felicity asks.

“What do you mean?”

“While I don’t understand the whole cheating on her with her sister thing, she must have meant a lot to you if you looked at her photo every day while on the island.”

“I’ve known Laurel since forever,” he says. “We practically grew up together. Our parents knew each other.”

“A lot of people know each other since forever. They don’t carry their photos in their wallets.” She pauses. “That’s surprisingly romantic of you, given your history with women.”

“Yeah, well, she gave it to me. I wasn’t going to trash it, was I?”

“I suppose not. But you didn’t answer the question.”

“Laurel is…” he hesitates. “Laurel is the most beautiful woman I know. It’s the way she holds herself. Like she expects the world to fall at her feet, or hell be damned.”

“I can see that. She does have some pretty badass vibes going for her, doesn’t she?”

Oliver can’t help but smile. “Yeah.”

“So…” she drawls. “Why not Laurel?”

“Why the sudden interrogation on my love life?” he counters.

“Starling City’s criminals have decided to go quiet this night, so I need something to do.” She twirls on her chair to face him fully. “Humor me?”

Oliver sighs, crossing his arms. “Things with Laurel are… complicated.”

“So? Uncomplicate them. That’s what couples do.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. Not after the island and Sara.”

“You mean you thought the thing with the sister would be a one-night fling, and it turned out to be more? Like fight and defend each other’s backs in a battlefield type of more?”

“That’s a very… precise way of putting it, but yeah.”

“You fall in love in the strangest ways, don’t you?” Felicity says.

“You have no idea,” he says.

Felicity hums and goes back to examining her computer screen. Blue light shines on her glasses perched on her nose, and her blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail. She purses her red lips and hits a few keys on her keyboard.

Oliver looks away when he realizes he is staring.

It would be easier to deal with, this thing that bubbles up when Felicity is near, if she were more like other women. Women like Laurel, or Sara, who are feminine and pretty in their own ways. Felicity is more like a machine, in some ways, albeit one dressed in fashionable heels and lipstick. Her brilliance is staggering, and sometimes he wishes he didn’t feel like he were put under a microscope underneath her laser gaze.

“Nothing?” he says into the silence broken only by Felicity’s typing.

The woman shakes her head.

“Right.” Oliver sighs and begins to head up the basement’s steel steps.

“Wait,” she calls out, and he stops. “Thanks for, um, sharing. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life or anything. It’s just, your personal life is mixed with so much of what you do as Arrow.”

“I know.” Laurel is more often than not prosecuting victims in the cases he brings in, and Sara worked under the League of Assassins. Helena is tied with Frank Bertinelli on the list, and the names go on. “It’s okay.”

He means it. He knows that with Felicity, there is no ulterior motive, just a restless curiosity and an eagerness to sate it.

“Thanks, Oliver. You’re the best.”

He only wishes he thought of Felicity as a friend, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go!


	8. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver reflects on Felicity Smoak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final drabble. Thank you so much for sticking with me till the end. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Drabble 8: Salvation

It starts like this.

One day he is returning home from a mission. A suicide bombing as a result of Oliver discovering the criminal’s mode of operation. The criminal is a multimillionaire, with money begotten through political laundering. Oliver uncovering his scheme causes the man to go mad, to forfeit his own life in order to take out Oliver’s. The suicide bombing doesn’t work, however, because Felicity hacks into the bomb’s frequency and manages to shut it down seconds before it goes off. Awkwardly, the man lives, and Oliver takes him out with a punch and hands him over to the police.

The thought occurs to him, as he is heading home, that Felicity saves his life. Oliver owes her his.

The thought passes as soon as it occurs. He considers voicing it but as is often the case, when it comes to Felicity his instinct is to remain silent. So silent he remains. Perhaps his habit is in counter to the way she babbles.

It’s not like he hasn’t had these thoughts before. It’s just, this time it occurs to him that he would be dead if not for the voice coming clear through his earpiece.

That’s when he begins to notice it.

Since returning from the island, Oliver does not understand warmth and affection. Or perhaps he does not trust it. He understands survival and action. He understands risking his life to save another’s.

Felicity saves him. That thought chips at the walls he built since the island.

The walls that say she cannot be trusted.

Mission follows mission, and every time Felicity comes through. Hacking, forensics, tracking, surveillance — Felicity is as good as her word.

One day he wakes up and he knows.

Oliver trusts Felicity Smoak.

He trusts her to save him through suicide bombings and stray bullets. He knows that if anything were to happen to him, she would not rest until she located his dead body. She is like John, but one thing sets her apart.

Felicity is intelligent beyond words. This fact should intimidate him, except it only causes him to respect her. He likes that her mind makes leaps long before he asks questions of her. He likes that she talks back when he asks questions that would seem to doubt her intelligence.

Physical beauty means little to Oliver. He is in great shape and he can have women of any caliber. What he does not realize is how attractive a woman is who is not afraid to use her mind.

He begins to notice little things about Felicity. The way she paints her nails baby blue. The way her face lights up when she talks about technology. Her voice speeding up when he comes near.

Oliver smiles.

Laurel is his light, Sara his darkness. Helena is his revenge, Isabel his ambition.

Felicity — Felicity is his salvation. Through her he is able to take down the criminals infesting his city. He is able to redeem his father. Through her he finds himself trusting again.

The day Oliver realizes he trusts Felicity is the day he falls in love with her.


End file.
